


Guide Me Home

by therunawaypen



Series: Sherlock Tumblr Prompt Fills [32]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Bonds, Guide!Mycroft, M/M, Sentinel!Greg, Spirit Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therunawaypen/pseuds/therunawaypen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone assumes that Mycroft is a Sentinel and Greg is a Guide. But when Greg gets worked up about a case, Mycroft is the one who can get him to focus, no matter where he is in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> For either Mystrade or 00Q: There aren’t nearly enough Sentinel/Guide AUs and this must be solved! If you’re unfamiliar fanlore has an explanation, but of course like many fic tropes, it’s very customizable. Anyways, I’d like to see something with the elements of mutual spontaneous aggressive territorial bonding, empathetic and locational awareness and spirit animals if possible. —ravenjade 
> 
> I obviously decided to use Mystrade for this prompt

It was widely assumed by those that knew him that Mycroft Holmes, with his superior ability to deduce man’s life story from the calluses on his hands or the way he took his coffee, was a Sentinel. Likewise, people assumed that DI Gregory Lestrade, with the amount of time he spent talking to people during press conferences or interrogations, was a Guide.

They were wrong. Those skills came naturally to them—it gave Sherlock no shortage of irritation that his Guide brother was just as good at deducing as he, a Sentinel, was. And Gregory just had a way of talking to people…when his ability didn’t get in the way.

Working on crime scenes, there was often a lot of information to take in with one’s five senses. For the most part, Greg did quite well managing the information he processed. But sometimes…

It was during a meeting with several members of the United Nations that Mycroft noticed the agitation in his spirit totem. The owl, which had come to Mycroft at the time of his birth, was now ruffling its feathers, unable to keep still. Mycroft knew the signs well enough to understand what was happening.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Mycroft nodded politely to those present at the meeting as he stood, quickly making his exit with the owl flying close behind him.

It was only when Mycroft and the owl (whom Mycroft had affectionately named Minerva in his childhood) were alone in an empty room  that the British Government took out his cell phone. Gregory was struggling and, judging by the time difference between their time zones (not that Mycroft could ever _tell_ Gregory where he was, his Sentinel always just knew), he was working late into the night.

Again.

“Oh Gregory…” Mycroft shook his head as he waited for his call to go through. Minerva was already trying to smooth her ruffled feathers. The things they did for their Sentinel…

“ _Hello_?” Gregory’s voice sounded distant, even for someone who was working on limited sleep. There was a faint growl in the background, most likely Toby, Gregory’s own totem. The German Shepherd was probably working himself into a frenzy at the moment.

“Gregory.”

At the sound of his name, the DI let out a long sigh, “ _Oh thank God, Mycroft…I’m at my wit’s end…”_

“I know.” Mycroft used his free hand to gently stroke Minerva’s head, “What has you so worked up that it has Minerva in such a state as well?”

 _“It’s this case, My.”_ Gregory hissed. He was most likely fighting a tension headache, if the phantom pains in Mycroft’s skull were any indicator, “ _This damn bank heist crew…it doesn’t make sense…I know it_ has _to make sense, but I can’t see it…”_

Sometimes Gregory pushed himself too hard as a Sentinel, he would try so hard to see things that he would end up missing what he needed to observe. Bless his heart… Mycroft took a breath, interrupting his Sentinel, “Gregory.”

It was the tone in which Mycroft spoke that hushed Gregory more than anything else. But then again, that was what a good Guide did—block out all external stimuli so the Sentinel can only focus on them, allowing them to find their center once more.

Once Mycroft was sure that Gregory’s mind wasn’t racing with all the possibilities of his current case, he continued, “I know you can solve this case.”  He smiled softly, “You managed to solve the cases you’ve been given. You can find the break you need.”

There was silence on Gregory’s end, but Mycroft could feel the agitation ebbing away from their bond.

“… _They hacked the security system…”_ Gregory muttered, “ _…they needed someone who knows his computers…”_

Mycroft smiled, “You can work on that lead after you’ve gotten some sleep. Don’t think I don’t know what time it is London.”

“ _Mycroft…”_

“No. Get some sleep, Gregory.” Mycroft chuckled, “I need to go back to my meeting, will you be alright?”

 _“Of course._ ” There was faint chuckle, “ _And don’t think I won’t be there to pick you up when you return from—”_

“That’s not necessary, Gregory.” Mycroft cleared his throat.

 _“Maybe not, but you’ve been gone for far too long, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take my Guide out to a good dinner and then go home for an even_ better _evening in.”_

A faint blush crept up Mycroft’s face, and Minerva’s feathers were ruffled again. Sometimes Gregory knew _just_ what to say… “Alright then, I suppose you win…”

_“There’s one for the history books…I’ll let you get back to your meeting My. Love you.”_

Mycroft smirked, “The feeling  is mutual.”


End file.
